Strange Case, an Urban Fantasy (Hyde Book III)

  “There is no record of ‘Landon Nicolas’ being a detective...anywhere. Ever. At least not in this country. So…if you tell me you're Canadian, I’ll say, ‘Welcome to the country,’ and then tell you how utterly amazed I am that the FDA hired someone who so-recently immigrated to the U.S. and has no public record in Canada either.”

  She didn’t even stop long enough for him to think of another lie. “While I didn’t find ‘Landon Nicolas,’ I did find this other guy. Let’s call him Nick right now because…well, because that’s his name. Anyway, until recently Nick worked as a detective in Fort Lauderdale, but I don't think he ever worked for the FDA.”

  She took a sip of her coffee. And why not? Her throat must have been dry from all that truth.

  “So I’ll ask again…Why are we really here, Nick?”

  Because I don’t have a friend of a friend of a friend who works at Google. But she’d come out here with him and he wasn’t dead, which meant she hadn’t told anyone. Was that enough to trust her?

  More than anything, he wanted to meet one goddamn person who was honest. Who was doing something simply because it was the right thing to do, without the moral or ethical implications, the rationalizations, and the excuses. Who was normal. Kind of like he used to be—no gray area or things beyond understanding.

  More than anything, he hoped that person was her. If he jumped in, it would be a huge risk and could come back on him compounded. It could hurt the people he cared about and end him. But there are times when you really need to believe in someone. That there are still good people in the world.

  He would move slowly, from the big picture stuff to the more detailed, until he found out if she’d already chosen the wrong side. “What do you know about the Abnormals?”

  “Is it a TV show?” she asked, obviously annoyed that it seemed he was changing the subject. “I don’t watch too much television.”

  “The Hydes. The Jekylls.”

  “It’s a good story,” she said, shrugging and looking utterly confused.

  He kept going, naming every person he could think of other than Turner and Eden. He studied her face, watching for the reactions nobody could control, but there was nothing. She knew nothing. A time to rejoice and a time to be disappointed.

  “The Clinic,” he continued. “The research being done at your Florida facility.”

  She inhaled sharply. Color bloomed on her cheeks. Eyes averted. The works. Every sign that screamed ‘Bingo’ was there to see.

  Okay. “What do you know about the lab in Florida?”

  “Nothing.”

  He tensed, anticipating a diversion or an outright lie. “A four-year-old could tell that you’re lying.”

  “Fine.” She shrugged. “Since you seem so good with the whole truth thing, I’ll start. Aside from the stuff you can read on a tourist pamphlet, all I know is that Malvers Labs doesn’t have a facility in Florida.” They sat down on the cement bench surrounding the fountain. “Now it’s your turn: Are you here because of the supply and accounting discrepancies?”

  “I…I can’t answer that.” Because I have no idea what you’re talking about. But letting her know that would just be stupid. As would his inclination to lean over and kiss her. The look of earnestness on her face, nervousness, concern, frustration. That wasn’t fake. It was real. About supply and accounting discrepancies.

  Okay. He didn’t quite know what to do with that. The woman was honest. She wasn’t part of the scheming. She was actually concerned with the shipping. He really wanted to kiss her. Accounting discrepancies. He leaned on his elbow and ran his hand over his mouth to cover his smile.

  What now? Don’t be stupid. And if that fails, lie some more. Damn, that’s sad. “Since you already know about me and the accounting…” He sighed.

  The most effective way to cover a lie is to reveal another lie just underneath it, preferably one that makes you seem like an idiot. No one admits to doing something stupid if they can help it. So the likelihood of deliberately making yourself look bad? Very low.

  “I spent my entire adult life being a cop.” True. “I loved it.” True. “But I screwed up.” True in many ways, but not on the job. “I trusted the wrong person and it ended my career.” Absolutely and horribly true.

  “My chief stuck his neck out and got me on a case investigating”—pause for dramatic effect—“the illegal transportation of pharmaceuticals to a certain little country we have an embargo against.” Big, obese lie. And it got the ball rolling pretty damn fast.

  He confessed to all kinds of things, making them as embarrassing and complicated as he could to confuse her, to make her unsure of anything and be so overwhelmed that she stopped questioning it. If it hadn’t confused her yet, he should just go home, because he would never be able to repeat it.

  But he wrapped it up with the truth. “If I figure out what’s going on with Malvers, I might be able to get my life back.”

  She stared at him in silence, undoubtedly shocked at what an idiot he was.

  “Dr. Sinclair, do you know what it’s like to have everything you’ve worked for just disappear? I’m not talking about the material stuff. I mean when your pride and your dreams are taken away because you trusted the wrong people.”

  He recognized the moment he hit her soft spot. Because it was the same as his. He was exposing it, opening up in a way he thought he’d forgotten how to.

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  “I think we might be able to help each other get that back. It might not work, but isn’t it worth a shot?”

  “Please don’t screw me over. I worked hard for this job.” After she sighed and tilted her shoulders back and forth as if she was weighing her decision literally, she glanced around them. “Obviously, we weren’t supposed to publish anything about GU-121 until we were much further along. It was a mistake, and Danvers knew it as soon as it came out.”

  Danvers, of course. That was why her name had never come up in anything they’d found—because Danvers’ name was on it. But why was she starting with him?

  “While I was getting my PhD,” she said quietly, “I came up with an earlier variant of what we now call GU-121. Malvers recruited me and Dr. Danvers helped me recreate something just different enough to avoid any future patent dispute. Of course, the University is still trying, and other people might join in at some point, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Does Danvers still work here?”

  She shook her head. “He was killed during a mugging.”

  Tara’s death had been a ‘mugging’ too. Landon couldn’t respond immediately because it took him a second to relax his jaw. “So Danvers leaked what you were doing.”

  “It was just a brief mention in an article about another compound, but it caused a lot of problems. Then he was killed. About a week later, Louis Bradford, a pharmacologist who used to work here, came to our lab with two of Malvers’ Board members. The next day I was told to completely stop working on GU-121. So I got curious.” She closed her eyes. “Okay, I got mad and maybe a little bit paranoid. I thought Bradford might try to claim the compound as his, because while he was here, I overheard him say that Florida was going to need a larger budget for tests.”

  Bradford—the one name Landon hadn’t mentioned. How could he have forgotten the guy with a big hole in his head? Right—there were too many of them.

  “So you started to look into what was happening there?”

  “At first, I just wanted to know what they were working on. Then...I may have accidentally found some information in the accounting department’s database.” She paused, waiting for him to break out his cuffs, maybe. After a moment, she continued. “I noticed all kinds of discrepancies, too many to be accidental. Receipts for things we never ordered or received. Shipping logs claiming special deliveries of lab equipment to a post office box in Ft. Lauderdale. And who hires a truck to ship office supplies halfway across the country when there’s an office store on every corner? We’re constantly running out of sup
plies, so it sure wasn’t paper or ink cartridges.”

  Maybe it was paper, ink, and a monster.

  He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I shouldn’t be telling you anything. You already know too much.” He paused, letting his lies settle. “Okay, you’re in.” Impressive. One minute he’d been celebrating her honesty and thirty seconds later, he starts using it to his advantage.

  Nice. “The facility in Florida is so secretive and has doctored their books so well, it’s hard to know where to begin with this case. I’d like to gather as much information as possible before I start ruffling feathers. Because once that starts, there will be no turning back. Once I know what’s going there, I’ll know what to look for on that end. Do you think you can get any documentation? Who signed for the shipments, how much money is going to Florida and from which sources, who’s in charge of its allocation. That sort of thing.”

  He needed names. Someone was on the opposite end of the line from Bradford, and that someone would know what he’d been brewing up. It might not be a way to take down The Clinic, but it would help Turner—a priority Turner would probably disapprove of. But once the idiot was healthy and cursing, Landon would be more than happy to tell him to kiss his ass.

  “You should talk to the accounting department or—”

  “It’s been more difficult than you can imagine to find people I can trust, Dr. Sinclair.” As her expression saddened, his desire to punch himself grew.

  “It’s Danielle.”

  Hell yes, he felt guilty about lying to her. Not that he was abject to lying nowadays, but she was obviously searching for someone to trust just as hard as he was. She wanted to believe in someone too. But coming clean now wouldn’t be a smart move, regardless of instinct or gut feelings. Facts always trump feelings. Always. And the truth would only get her in trouble.

  “How much time do you need to get that info for me?”

  She paused long enough for him to know she was about to balk.

  “Can you have it by lunchtime?”

  “Seriously?”

  “I know you’re tired, but time is crunching, Danielle. That information could solve a lot of problems for my team.”

  She took a sip of coffee and then tipped it to drink the rest. “If I want to be productive, I’m going to need more.”

  “I’ll buy.” He stopped her before they went back inside. “Listen, we don’t know who’s doing this, but we know they have a lot to lose. And people with a lot to lose don’t always think clearly or logically. So if you get even an inkling that somebody knows what you’re doing, I want you to get out.” He couldn’t live with another death on his conscience, especially not an innocent one.

  Her smile worried him, but he couldn’t tell her any more unless he told her everything. “I have no intention of getting fired, Nick. But when you know someone is doing something wrong, you can’t just ignore it, you know?”

  He held up his soda in a toast. “I knew I’d like you.”

  She held his eyes for a moment too long. “Me too.” A smile crept onto her face. “Because you’re nice to gawk at. But I hate that uniform.”

  He was going to burn the thing. “I’ll be calling you later to check up on things, so don’t…lose your phone again.”

  What he was asking her to do was unfair. He was putting her in a dangerous situation without telling her the truth. Without giving her enough to make an informed decision. She was smart, but was she street smart? He didn’t know enough about her to be sure. Some collateral damage was going to happen before this was over, but he hadn’t planned on being the one to cause it. He needed to reevaluate what he was willing to do, and who he was willing to sacrifice.

  Besides himself.

  Chapter XIX

  When Eden felt the hand on her shoulder, she whipped around, catching it and bending it backwards.

  “Jesus, Eden, stop! You’re going to break my hand.”

  She let go immediately, recognizing Landon’s voice. “Sorry. I’ve been a bit edgy lately.” Her vision was still blurred by the minuscule amount of sleep she’d gotten.

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Even this early in the morning, his sarcasm was obvious. “How’d the kid do?”

  She shrugged. “Compared to Mitch’s, Justin’s Hyde is angelic. How was work?”

  “Slightly productive, although I won’t be able to define ‘slightly’ until later. I could’ve told you this on the phone but you never answer.”

  “Oops. I just don’t think about turning it on. The only person who ever called me was Carter and he’s...” She let the thought go. Carter deserved what he got. “But I will from now on.” Because it was a trivial thing that might screw up something important.

  “I’m going out.”

  “Where?”

  “Out.” He looked at her pointedly and then sighed. “I met someone who might be able to help us.” He told her about some woman who was gathering information about shipping and money. “I’m going somewhere that has internet access…and a shitload of coffee.”

  “Sounds like a blast.” But she wasn’t concerned with the money—she needed names, info on how to help Mitch. Bringing down The Clinic was secondary to that.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  As if she could. She had an exciting day planned, and it didn’t involve staying here and doing nothing. But it did involve being careful. Since she was one of The Clinic’s top freaks, her picture had probably been spread around to all the facilities and put on their recruiting poster by now. That and the fact that Landon could grow facial hair made him the less identifiable one. Especially today—he looked like the walking dead.

  “You should get some too,” she said.

  “Later.” He hadn’t stopped to rest—driving as long as they had and working the night shift with only one night’s bad sleep the day before. And now he was going out again. But he was a big boy and could take care of himself.

  Before he moved away, she caught his arm. “Landon, I know I’ve been…difficult. And I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No it’s not.”

  “No it’s not, but I understand. Now can I have my arm back?”

  Instead of letting go right away, she took his hand and squeezed it, trying to convey something that words could never express. Especially if she didn’t bother trying.

  Tell him. “I want you to know that I think you’re an amazing man.” She spoke softly—because that was the only way she could say it.

  “Thanks,” he said with an awkward smile.

  Don’t stop there—you owe him. “I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve never diverted from who you are and what you believe in.”

  His lips grew tight. “I keep trying, and it keeps getting harder.”

  She shook her head. “That’s why I respect you so much. Because even when it is hard, you do the right thing.” Like she used to do. Long ago. Always doing the ‘right’ thing, even when it hurt. But the definition she was basing her life on was flawed and made her weak. Landon had figured out how to be right and be strong.

  “Yeah, well…too much emotion makes me uncomfortable, so I’m going to take off now.” He was better than she was—now and maybe before as well. He followed the rules of fairness while Eden made up her own as she went.

  And today she would test even those.

  She and Landon had the same goal but his way would take too long. She needed to try something more direct. He was doing what he was good at and so would she. Isn’t that what teams did—use their individual strengths to get things done?

  As soon as he was gone and Justin was cuff-less but still sleeping, Eden grabbed the supplies she’d kept hidden and brought them into the truly disgusting bathroom. No shower, of course, but the basics were there.

  Being able to pee standing up was the thing she envied most about men. The rest sounded awful, but she’d gladly take it if it meant she could avoid sitting down on that toilet. The mirror above the sink was cracked, the reflec
tive surface peeling off three of the corners, and graffiti placed in such a way that it looked tattooed in reverse across her forehead and one cheek.

  Interesting look, but not exactly subtle. She took one last look at herself before setting a pair of scissors down on the edge of the sink and tugging her shirt over her head. She took her ponytail out and shook her hair free, running her fingers through it. She loved her hair. It was healthy and strong.

  And it had to go. She cut it off in clumps, sawing the scissors until they made it through, tossing the hair in the corner of the room without looking in the mirror once. If she did, she’d probably start crying. One more piece of the old Eden that couldn’t hang around any longer.

  When she was done, she took out a bottle of peroxide, skimmed the instructions, and went to work. The wait was terrible. Doing something, moving, meant there was less time for thought. Feeling the mild burn of the bleach as it took away the color, she remembered things that hurt. The good memories hurt most, because they might be the last ones she would ever have.

  She rinsed and repeated, and then added color back in, rinsed, conditioned, exactly as the directions suggested. Because the only thing worse than being recognized as herself would be to garner lots of attention for looking like a total freak.

  When she saw herself for the first time with blond, chin-length hair, she almost did start crying. First off, because the cut she’d given herself was absolutely horrible and second, because she looked so different, even Mitch might not recognize her. Or be attracted to her.

  She shook off the thought and concentrated on evening out the strands. When that failed, she went to find Justin. He was in the office area, rummaging through a bag for something to eat.

  “Holy shit!” His eyes practically vaulted out of his head.

  She smoothed down her new hair self-consciously. “I know—not my best hair day.”

  “You look seriously hot, E. Seriously.”

  “As disturbed as I am about you saying that, I needed to hear it. Thanks. Can you help me with the back?”